


The Logic of Loyalty

by Rinari7



Series: Leading the Blind [5]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode Tag, Friendship, Gen, Year of Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7609216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinari7/pseuds/Rinari7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven wondered why Tuvok decided to remain aboard a crippled Voyager when he was crippled himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Logic of Loyalty

“I must admit that I fail to see the logic in your decision to stay on board the ship. It could not be a matter of capacity in the escape pods. Aside from myself and the Talaxian, the crew was entirely comprised of Alpha Quadrant species, and you could not have come this far without some casualties.”

Seven of Nine would have described the ship as “eerily empty” now, were she given to such flights of descriptive fancy. The corridor lacked the hum of electricity and the biological presence of the crew of an undamaged vessel. The last of the crew, the half-Ktarian child and the mother as well as two others, should be loading into one of the escape pods now.   
  


“I am a senior officer. It is my duty to do that which I cannot ask my subordinates to attempt, should the situation necessitate it.” Honor, duty, and dignity were such an antiquated concepts, and yet she did not wish to deny him this scrap of solace they seemed to afford him.

“I do not see why that would be relevant in this situation. You can be of little use in repairing this vessel. You have as much of a prerogative to attempt to return home as anyone.”  
  
“I would also be of little use to any of the groups in the escape pods on their current missions.” His tone was slightly more clipped than usual. “Do you doubt our ability to repair Voyager and rescue the crew at a later date?”

“In a time-efficient manner, yes. Did the captain not recently equate staying here with death?” She drew a hanging cable out of the way of his head. “It takes years to build such a starship, and it would likely take a significant amount of time to bring this vessel up to an acceptable operating efficiency. We are only a handful of people left, and we can barely do more than react to the next crisis.”

“Once we can defend ourselves and house more crew, we can retrieve our shipmates and repairs will progress more quickly.”

“Assuming that the ones we are able to rescue have the necessary technical expertise.”

“You are not a senior officer. You were under no obligation to stay, yourself. Why did you, then, if you think so little of our chances of survival?”

“My leaving would have served no purpose. I have no reason to desire to return to the Alpha Quadrant, and I highly doubt many of the crew would… appreciate having me among their companions in an escape pod.”

 

Charred carpeting crackled quietly under their feet. He did not contradict her assessment of the crew’s attitude towards her, a mercy which she had learned to appreciate. The human tendency to offer false comfort, to “coat a situation with sugar”--as the captain had so recently done, in promising to retrieve her crew again--was futile, inefficient, delusional, despicable, offensive even.   


After all, who was to say a pod’s trajectory would not put it in range of another Borg homing beacon? (On some occasions, still, more often recently, she thought this would be a comfort. Alive, in service of greatness, in service of the pursuit of perfection, without the need to consume Talaxian-spiced sludge to continue to function--sometimes she judged such an existence preferable to this one. Yet, more often than not, the idea repulsed her, and she snuffed it out as soon as it flickered into her consciousness.)

 

“You have a family in the Alpha Quadrant. And you seem to be respected among the crew. ”

“One might infer that you do not wish to have me aboard. Have I become a burden to you?”

A flash, of something, sadness, anger, _guilt_ , and then the she flushed it from her consciousness, swallowing. “No, you are not a burden. It was not my intention to imply anything of the sort. I simply… you would have reason to go, and little logical reason to stay.” She understood him, more than she understood anyone else on this ship, and yet sometimes... “I still do not comprehend it.”

“Then I highly doubt you will, and further discussion would be pointless. My decision has been made, and it would be difficult to reverse it now.”

 

His mind would have made a valuable, intriguing addition to the Collective. She could have seen his every thought, heard his every memory, sensed his every emotion. But to do so would have been to destroy the privacy he held so dearly.   
  
The tension in his grip, the rigidity of his posture, the lift of his chin already told her that she had breached it, in a smaller way. Regrettable…

 

“At least I will no longer have to suffer Ensign Brooks’ lack of meticulosity in her domestic habits.”  
  
The wry arch of his eyebrow as he relaxed slightly spoke silent volumes, and she found the corners of her mouth twitching upwards in response.   
  
Despite what may have been best, she felt a certain amount of personal gratification in the prospect of his continued presence. It should have been irrelevant.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stop, dammit. :P  
> Apparently I love getting inside Seven's head.


End file.
